Yard Sale
by Iwilo
Summary: She grabbed his 'Mister'. Larizu had never felt so violated.
1. Fetish

Nighttime.

He opens his eyes and it's dark. He's disoriented, likely a bit of hangover, but he's still too tired to be certain. Maybe a knock on the head… did he let his gambling debts go too far again? The only thing he's certain of is that he has to piss. He pushes himself to a sitting position. All limbs appear to be operating; a good sign. Nothing feels like it is missing or busted. Man, it is dark. There's sky above and trees around but he hasn't a clue where he is. His head is killing him. He's outdoors; that much he can tell. He reaches up to feel his skull for any lumps or worse. Did he get knocked out?

Something is hooked around his wrist and it slaps him in the head as he brings his hand up to his face. His eyes are dry as hell, he's realized, which is part of the reason he can hardly see. Hairless brows are raised in amusement and relief, lips stretching wide between curved tusks into a toothy grin. Awakened by the scent that greets him, pouring over him like honey but much sweeter, he doesn't have to see to know what he's wearing as a bracelet. Regardless of the necessity or lack thereof, he yanks the thing off his wrist, stretches it in both hands and buries his face in it, sniffing like a hound.

Panties. Sweetly feminine, tasty-delectable, raptor-horny panties. It's a good thing, too, because he was starting to wonder why he was naked. Given Larizu's propensity for gambling and the occasional mild swindling, waking up naked with a headache isn't generally a sign of good fortune. "Fortune," he chuckles, shaking his head, the grin never leaving his face.

Marching off blindly in search of a tree or a wall or at least distance from whatever belongings he might have scattered around in the dark, he keeps his face buried in the panties. He wants to poke his tusks through them and wear them like a bandit mask, but the girl, whoever the hell she is, might want them back. He chuckles again, and it's punctuated by a mischievous growl. The smile under the panties has adopted a sneaky sneer. If she wants her panties back, she's gonna have to dance for them. Well, maybe she won't dance for panties, but if he has her panties on his face, she'll certainly dance for gold. Larizu has plenty of gold, thanks to that stupid "mathemagician" tauren. "Bless his big stupid heart, mon." His tongue snakes out to lick his smiling teeth and he tastes female musk, which is just fine by him.

Daylight.

Larizu stretches, snorts, rolls from his right side to his left, pauses… He sniffs again. He grins tiredly and lets out a contented sigh. So he did decide to make those panties into a mask after all. He shrugs slightly, fighting the childish urge to kick his legs and giggle as he lies on his side. Well, he can buy her a new pair, after she dances. He rolls onto his back, knees bent and apart, arms folded behind his head. He vaguely remembers a half-asleep trek through the dark, a very unsatisfying piss that took far too long on account of a raging pussy-smell-induced hard on. He remembers shuffling back toward the general direction of where he guessed his clothes were and he fills in the blanks, assuming he crashed back asleep. That's good. He feels quite refreshed and ready for more debauchery. He stretches, farts, jumps a bit at the sound of the unexpected poot and snorts laughter through his panty-mask.

"**Nice dress**!" Larizu's eyes snap open, dark pupils giving way to bright red irises as they shrink at the sudden light. He sits bolt upright, squinting as he quickly takes in his surroundings. The scene has quite a story to tell. He wishes he could remember it. The fact that he can't probably has something to do with the empty bottles strewn about and the sight of his trusty hookah lying half-buried in the tall grass.

Crimson eyes flicker back and forth rapidly, taking it all in. There are panties; dozens of them, strewn about haphazardly on the dewy grass. His glasses lie nearby, crushed. "Dammit, mon." He'd liked those glasses. His cloak is spread out on the ground like a blanket in the center of the clearing and from his view he is at least partially surrounded by woods. There is a little brook winding off to his right and he wonders vaguely how he didn't end up inadvertently taking a bath during his midnight wanderings. He leans forward and lets his head hang between his knees as he tries to fully awaken

"**How much you want for it, friend**?" the high-pitched voice comes again. Larizu looks up sharply as something fast, green, and short enters his field of vision, circling around from his right and stopping several yards in front of him. It's a goblin. She has pigtails and grotesquely giant lips painted fuck-my-eyes pink. Sharp needle teeth shine between thick lips as she smiles chummily. She's holding up his sarong.

"What?" Larizu croaks. He's still on the ground, leaning back on his hands tiredly. The goblin tilts her head, which is kitten-gigantic on her spindly neck.

"**No speaky orcy**?" she shakes her yellow pigtails, overly made-up eyes wide as she continues to smile and waves the sarong at the troll. He notices that her claws are painted too. She looks like a clown. No. She looks like a freaking circus. "**Me… want… DRESS!**" she speaks slowly and loudly, screams more than speaks really. "**You… SELL… dress!**" Her eyes wander down and then back up to his face, "_**Mister!**_"

Larizu shakes his head and tilts it, his brow furrowing in annoyance as he tries to figure out what the hell this big-headed little goblin bitch is doing with his dress – his SARONG, and why she's even out in the middle of the woods anyway. He brings up his right hand, draws it down over his face, stretching it in exasperation as she continues in her shrill tone, "**_MISTER_… TROLL… SELL… DITZY… DRESS!**"

Desperate to stop the banshee-shriek of the green-skinned, pigtailed menace, Larizu finally discovers his voice. "I be no-speaky-orcy, not _deaf_, sistah!" His voice is a bit muffled. Ditzy drapes the sarong over one arm, the "dress" being at least twice her length and so dragging on the ground as she bumps out one hip and places a bracelet-bedecked hand on it.

"**Nice mask**," she snorts, "**El Bandito Trollo**."

Larizu growls as he tears the panties off his tusks and balls them up, dropping them on the ground between his legs. "It ain't a mas- … What da hell is a El bandito trollo?"

Ditzy shrugs, "**I dunno. I just made it up. I'm creative like that. That's what my name means. It's like ancients-speak for really smart and imaginative. I got like an artistic flair. Say, ya gotta name? Ya sound like ya speak orcish. Mine's Ditzy. Oh, yeah, I already told ya that. So how much for the dress? **" The goblin draws the sarong up her arm like a curtain, revealing a row of panties that hangs from her arm, "… **and these, too. Do I get a discount if I buy all of em? Baker's dozen? Whaddaya say, Pal?**" she fluffs up one pigtail with the arm that isn't holding his sarong and Loa-knows-whose panties. Gods, does she ever shut up?

"Do ya evah shut up?" he growls. Ditzy pauses, scratches the side of her nose, brings her lower jaw to the side and clenches it there, momentarily giving her face a very crooked look that Larizu would find quite endearing if she weren't a buzzing, shrieking toad mosquito sent from the deepest Nether to punish him for something worse that even HE could conceivably have done in this lifetime. She appears unfazed as she bumps out the opposite hip, bringing that foot forward. She's wearing high-heeled monstrosities that appear to have 3-inch-thick rubber soles and dirty grey laces going down the front. They are, unsurprisingly, pink.

"**That ain't no way to treat a customer, _Mister_ troll**." She keeps putting an accent on Mister, like she's reminding him that he isn't a Miss.

"Ya ain't my customah!" They both pause, he panting angrily, she glancing about with the disinterested air of royalty.

She snorts, "**Well, if this ain't your yard sale, then where the heck is the proprietor**?" She arches one high brow, "**and does that mean you're for sale, long, blue and angry**?"

Larizu's eyes widen as they follow her gaze. "HEY! My eyes be up here!" He tucks in his thumb and points all two of the digits on his left hand at his eyes to demonstrate the point. The goblin doesn't even pretend to look away, opting instead to wiggle her eyebrows and lick her lips salaciously. He can feel her eyes on his manhood. They feel like fat, crawly spiders and bad juju. Fighting the urge to cover himself like a shy sissy girl, Larizu shoves out his right hand, palm up, "Gimme back da damn sarong."

Ditzy tosses her pigtails absently as she continues to unabashedly ogle the troll, "**Doesn't seem sarong ta me! … Well, the curtains don't match the pubes but I ain't complainin'. The blue is nice, though, I mean if ya, like, decided to go natural… But, I mean, the red matches your eyes and all. It's like them things on a rooster's head, right? The cock-thing**," she snorts and doubles over, cackling at her own lewd quip.

"Now ya just bein' immature," Larizu gets to his feet, slapping the grass off his naked legs and back angrily as he struggles with his sudden prudishness and dwindling dignity.

Ditzy straightens up, big eyes staring back at his eyes this time, "**What's _sarong_**?" This time her eyes actually fill up with tears. They don't just water, they well up and spill over, gushing from the lids as she squeezes them shut, bending and then falling to the ground as she guffaws herself breathless. Her mouth is open so wide that Larizu is certain he gets a look at her uvula, pink and bouncing. He's repulsed to see that she has nearly as much pink makeup on her teeth as she does on her lips.

Man, what a deal! I mean, first she finds this great yard sale, out in the middle of nowhere and it looks like nobody's even taken the good stuff yet, then there's this butt-naked troll. A man troll, of course. And what a man! Now Ditzy ain't easy but she ain't hard, either… "**HARD! AHAHHAHA!**" That just gets her laughing all over again. She gasps for air, smashing the dress against her face as she tries to quiet herself. She wants to stop laughing so she can get another eyeful…

"Dress. Give it. Now," Larizu towers over the crazy green bitch who currently has her painted face buried in his sarong.

Ditzy stares up at him, slowly lowering the arm that is covering her mouth. She's still smiling broadly. "**Ya gonna wrap it for me**?" Larizu tries to snatch it away but she has her claws wrapped tightly in the fabric, "**Heeey**!" she shrieks as he tugs the dress, making her spin around and flip so that she is dragging on her belly. "**Hey what GIVES**?"

Larizu shakes the dress and she lets go, rather than get flung into a tree. "I ain't gonna wrap it. I'm gonna WEAR it," Larizu growls, turning away as he wraps himself in the "so-wrong", tucking it under so that it hangs low at his slim hips.

"**Gosh, what a prude… Hey, not bad**," Ditzy muses loudly.

Larizu turns on her, angrily, his brow rising briefly and then furrowing again as he lowers his gaze to make up for the fact that she is lying on her belly. She cranes her neck to stare up at him, her elbows splayed, chin resting on her hands as if she'd planned to be on her belly all along. Her two ugly pink shoes kick idly and she tilts her head to the side to peer up at him, "**I mean, like not bad for a skirt on a guy. I think I could get used to that look. I thought you said it was a dress, Mister. You also said you didn't speak orcish. Are you one of them people that like lies compulsively? There's a name for that, you know. It's compulsive liar. You some kinda compulsive liar? I never got to meet one before. You GOTTA tell me what that's like, but NO LYING! So, how much for the underwear? Or you planning on modeling those too, _hmmmmm_**?" She tilts her head the other way. Her legs are still marching in the air.

Sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose, Larizu shakes his head. "Da panties are used, mon."

Ditzy shrugs, "**Yeah that explains the smell. Kinda tangy, heh. So, half-price, right**?"

Are all goblins this disgusting? Well, he was the one lying in the woods with his tusks through a pair. He'd better make a tincture for the fire-piss, as a preventative measure. He scans the area, taking in the panties, some of them shredded. He'll make that tincture double-strength. Where the hell are all the women who'd worn them? And what the hell is this goblin doing here? And is he really in Eversong? "Are we really in Evasong?"

Ditzy blows her lips out in exasperation. "**Yes, RUDE, we are**." Larizu turns his gaze back to her. "Whatcha doin' out here?" Ditzy blinks up at him, "**um, shopping**?"

Larizu blinks back. "Oh." The kicking of her legs slowly ceases. She leaves them folded over her back like a scorpion's tail, if scorpions wore really ugly pink shoes on their stingers. Even the thick rubber soles are pink.

"**And putting up posters**," she finally adds.

Larizu releases the bridge of his nose, glances around. Sure enough, there are posters nailed to every tree. Some of them appear to be backward. All of them are at odd angles. It looks like they were loaded into a bomb and blown all over the woods. Given the fact that it was a goblin that posted them, a bomb very well may have been involved. He looks back down at her. She's staring up at him expectantly. "Just take da damn panties!" he waves her off.

She doesn't flinch, only bats her eyelashes. "**You're cute**."

Larizu stands there, arms hanging limp at his sides, lips drawn back in a bewildered snarl, eyes still dry with sleep. "I'm gonna piss." Ditzy shrugs and resumes kicking her legs in the air as he lumbers past her and into the woods.

So he's in Eversong. Blood Elf territory. Well, that's no big shock, given his predilection for the exotic and his particular fondness of elf women. That also explains the myriad panties. Blood elf women love their undergarments, and Larizu loves their undergarments too. He has a bit of a fetish. But what on earth is a goblin doing creeping around the Eversong woods, nailing up posters? The troll walks further into the woods than he would deem necessary, were he alone, or in better company. After glancing over his shoulder, he parts the front of his sarong (Dammit! She got lipstick on his damn sarong!), and empties his bladder as he tries to figure remember what kind of party he had last night. He hopes it was memorable.

Ditzy stands up, brushes herself off, looks at her new underpants. "**Cool**!" He gave them to her for free! Being hot sure has its perks. She continues to browse the assortment on the ground. "**Hope its buy one, get one**." Her bracelets jingle as she flicks through the piles of lacy and silky little underthings. She snatches up a black satin bra and eyes it with amusement. Whoever wore this didn't need it. The thing is tiny!

**G.A.S.I.**

**Grimegear Associates and Services Incorporated is NOW HIRING!**

Larizu stares at the flyer in his hand, his mouth moving slightly as he reads…

**Positions currently available: Dredge and –Coffee-Getter-**

Coffee-getter has been crossed out. He rubs his hand over his chin and continues…

**NEED A JOB DONE? LOOK NO FURTHER!**

**G.A.S.I. has round-the-clock experts ready to take care of all your needs:**

**crafting, mercenary work, extortion, blackmail, gambling, prostitution, drug running, gun for hire, demolition, construction, arms dealing, various repairs, transportation, weddings, catering, CHILD'S BIRTHDAY PARTY!, entertainment services, advertisement, mail orders, delivery, messaging, conflict mediation, chemical de-lousing, re-lousing, monkey stud service (only for hot female monkeys. NO exceptions), spiritual guidance, executions, resurrections, bounty hunting, pool cleaning, maid service, contracting, home-schooling, typist, deforestation, oiling, sailing, pirateering, bottling, milk sales, firebombing, fundraising, paving, acquisitions, moonshine, elf rentals, food services, taxidermist, charnel house… AND MORE!**

**Act now for *FREE pony!**

Frowning, his hand slapped over his mouth, Larizu squints at the following, which is written in a scrawling hand and therefore more difficult to read than the blocky print…

_Hi. I'm Gazril Blastwright, Owner, Chairman, Founder, Co-Founder, Master, and Ruler of G.A.S.I. If you need a job done; look no further, friend. There's no more honestly- priced, trustworthy or better-prepared man for the job, no matter what job you need done. Why is that, you ask? Because all those other guys died. So when you need a job done, think G.A.S.I., because the competition is dead._

_Signed,_

_Gazril Blastright, Owner, Chairman, Founder, Co-Founder, Master, and Ruler_

Larizu's hand has dropped to his side now. His mouth hangs open as he squints and moves the page away from his face, trying to read the fine print.

_*Pony offer not valid in Azeroth or Outlands. Other restrictions may apply._

It's like trying to find a flea's dick, so he gives up. Walking back into the clearing, he is not entirely surprised and not at all pleased to see that his 'visitor' hasn't left. "I told ya just take da damn tings and go!"

Her back is to him and now she turns to face him. She has a bra pulled over her head, tied tight in the back, one cup tucked under and knotted in the back. The other covers her eye. The other eye stares at him, wide as ever. "**What? It's an eye patch**." Larizu folds his arms across his chest. She grins at him sheepishly.

Unfolding his arms, he holds up the poster. "What da hell is dis?"

"**Oh, yeah I made those! Ya like it, Mister**?" He doesn't like the way she says Mister. Somehow she has turned the meaning of 'Mister' into 'I saw your dick' only something more gross.

"It's Larizu," he says, trying to keep his voice cool and even. He really hates how uncomfortable this made-up toad is making him. He feels… scrutinized. Her little girl thing doesn't entirely feel like an act, but there's bizarre underlying cunning… No, not cunning… mischief; that he doesn't think it wise to ignore. Not to mention she embarrassed him, earlier. He feels defensive. It doesn't help matters any when she starts laughing at him.

Her eye goes wide and then close as she lets out a string of ear-piercing, shrieking cackles. She drops several dainties on the ground as she slaps her knee with one long, slender green hand. "What da hell be so funny bout dat?" he growls.

"**N-nothing. Heeheeheeeheee… It… haha HA! .. It's just thatcha got a sk-skirt on and your name s-sounds like.. like.. L- Laurie-SUE! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!**"

Larizu leans his head back and rolls his eyes skyward. First that idiot tauren and his bizarre accusations and his "Larry-Sue" and now _this_ little bugger. When he lowers his head again, his annoyance is quite evident. "Dat ain't what I said," he manages, through clenched teeth.

Ditzy manages to get herself under control. She wipes a tear from beneath her eye with one long finger. Larizu is pissed. He looks pissed. He KNOWS he looks pissed. Despite himself, he feels a little impressed at the little goblin's brass as she marches right up to him, tilts her giant head to stare him dead in the eye. "**Aw, don't get all upset, sugar! Your name's Larizu, see? I heard ya!**" she tilts her head in a manner which she undoubtedly thinks is endearing. He curls his lip in disdain. "**Hey, ya know what**?" she continues. Larizu just continues to stare daggers at her. "**Your ears twitch whenever I talk. That's really cute!**"

He's getting really sick of the word 'cute'. "Dat's because ya be so damn shrill dey tryin' ta 'scape." He growls.

She reaches up and flips her bra-eye-gear onto her forehead and grins at him. "**You're cute when your mad**."

Larizu lowers himself, placing his hands on his knees until his face is within a few feet of hers. Gods, she's smaller than a whelp. "If ya say 'cute' one more time, I'm gonna go back on a promise I made wit myself."

Her smile never falters, "**No interspecies relationships**?"

He shakes his head slightly, "Cannibalism." And this time it's he who grins toothily.

He wants her to take all the dirty under things she can carry and get the hell out of his sight, and he opens his mouth to tell her so, but his jaw slams shut, trapping his tongue painfully as a very green and very well-aimed hand reaches out and grabs him by his 'Mister'. His eyes bug out, roll up, close. He hears himself whimper and damns himself for it before catching himself, shoving the hand away. "What da _hell _ya tinkin'?"

Ditzy gives him a look of transparently feigned innocence. "**You're the one with the boner**_,_" she blinks up at him.

His expression is incredulous, as is his tone, "I ain't got no damn boner, woman!"

She smirks, "**Now ya do!**" Larizu freezes, mentally checks himself. He doesn't have to look down to know she's right. He can see in his mind's eye what his tented sarong must look like, practically at eye-level with the smug little green wench. He imagines his hands around her neck and wonders if she'd turn blue or just darker green, maybe gray. He realizes his hands are curled into claws as he fantasizes that he's choking the shit out of her and he does nothing to correct it.

Instead, he lifts one-claw hand and shakes the poster at her. He jabs a finger at it. It's a really weak way of changing the subject, but frankly it's all he's got at the moment.

"**Huh? Oh, that**," thank the gods she has the attention span of a fly. "**Yeah, I made those. Pretty good forgery, right?**" She lifts both hands and his hips react quickly as his feet stay planted in the grass, doubling him over to keep his 'Mister' out of reach so that he bends over toward her. "**Thanks**," she snatches the poster.

She has the now-crumpled sheet in one hand; the other hand is twirling in one thick yellow pigtail. She's wearing the remaining panties like a purse as she looks over the poster again. Larizu's stomach turns as he watches her lips pout out and she scoops a lock of hair into her mouth. She starts chewing on it, large eyes never leaving the page as she gets lipstick all over her hair. Maybe she'd turn black if he choked her.

"**Yeaaaah…**." She muses, "**I think I got the penmanship down. Woulda been better if I coulda gotten a sample of his handwriting. Or seen him write**." She shrugs and looks up at the still-bent-over troll, "**Didja like the pony part?**" She smiles sweetly. Well, she smiles in what he's sure she assumes is a sweet manner. He considers telling her she looks like a big-headed frog with steel-jaw trap for a mouth, but she might think it's a come-on and he doesn't want her harassing his 'Mister' again.

He thinks he should go to a spiritual guide, because he feels violated. Then he remembers that he is one, sort of.

* * *

G.A.S.I. is not my guild, though I hope my Ditzy gets to be Coffee Getter! ::crosses fingers:: COMMENT ON MY STORY! **VOTE DITZY FOR COFFEE GETTER!**

Thanks to Ornak-The-Super-Awesome-Guy aka Gazril Blastwright for being one of the most lully and creative motherfuckers I know.

**G.A.S.I will be open-for-business on Moon Guard realm when Cataclysm comes out. Reserve your goblin names, people!**

**A note on flagrant abuse of b and CAPSLOCK: DITZY SOUNDS LIKE THIS!**

**Edit in: **Special thanks to Meruda for her very constructive and VERY thorough comments regarding the layout of my dialogue in this chapter. It's really refreshing when someone can sort of walk me through when I'm having trouble understanding a writing concept. To anyone who sees any room for improvement in my stories, be it even spelling errors or tenses (I frequently fuck up tenses and I edit my stories three or more times before I publish and almost always read them aloud) PLEASE don't be shy about telling me. I took your advice Meruda, and I agree it makes it more readable, and I hope I did it right! hehe.

~I'wilo


	2. Just A Piercing

Ditzy was relieved to be out of Silvermoon. Those snotty blood elves with their upturned noses and stinkin' attitudes were so freaking suspicious. In short, they had her pegged the minute she walked by. What brats. Sure, the roads were paved super-smooth, which made dragging her bag around a heck of a lot easier… "Stupid cart," she kicked at a pebble and it flew off the path and into the woods with an unsatisfying quiet sound. A crashing explosion would have been preferable.

She shouldn't have been dragging the bag at all. She should, in fact, have made it to her destination and back hours ago, except her stupid go-cart had chosen to explode right in the middle of the Lordaeron ruins. Now THAT had been an explosion. KABOOM! And those undead guys were all such brats about it. A real bunch of RUDES! I mean, why should THEY have cared if there's a few spare parts lying around… a little bit of scorch on the stones… a medium-huge crater and maybe some debris imbedded in the wall? They lived underground anyway. Well, sort of lived. Besides, they didn't call them 'ruins' for nothing. Who could tell the difference? The only undead Ditzy had ever seen who half-looked decent was that Sylvanas broad and even she could have used a little color. Maybe some rouge. A little lipstick, maybe some nail polish… Speaking of…

Dropping the bag and lifting her short, frilly purple skirt in a very unladylike manner, she hoisted up her sagging pink tights. "**Sheesh**," she mumbled as she stretched her arms upward, walking her hands back and forth with the palms toward the sky as she tried to wring some of the tension out of her aching shoulders. The bag in question was a plain brown sack, about three feet in length, which made it three inches longer than the goblin herself. The sack weighed thirty-five pounds, and the goblin weighed thirty-two, which made the fact that she'd been dragging it like a determined little ant for miles now quite the impressive feat.

"**Actually**," she'd have said, "**ants can carry between like ten and fifty times their own weight on average. And before ya let some dork tell ya it's because their strong or somethin', you should know it ain't like that. It's cause of how body size increases as a cube of length, but the cross sectional area of muscles increases as like the square of length and stuff. So's when like the size of an organism increases, its mass like increases at a much greater rate than the cross sectional area of its muscles and then like the muscles have … You ain't even listening! _RUUUUDE!_**" That was your typical goblin; as highly intelligent as they were lacking in the common sense department.

Grabbing the bag, she used her long, painted claws to pick apart the knot she'd been using as a makeshift handle. The knot was impossibly tight after being tugged at all that time. The added weight from the friction of it being dragged down the city roads and now the rougher paths that wound through the Eversong woods had only served to tighten it further, until the folded ends were nearly melded into a small stone. Luckily, Ditzy had impossibly dexterous fingers. Humming loudly, for Ditzy didn't bother with what some called an "indoors voice", she let her fingers work their magic and the knot fell apart quickly.

Grinning triumphantly, she released the edges of the bag and allowed it to collapse, several rounded objects within rolling as they spread within the confines of the thick fabric. Once the contents had settled, Ditzy flopped down on her knees and settled her butt against the tall rubber heels of her bizarre pink shoes. To compliment the strange ensemble, she wore a sleeveless, tight tan leather vest that flared at the waist like a petticoat, with a neckline that was a bit too low for polite society. The goblin tucked her chin and looked down her pointed nose, eyes crossed as she fished through her cleavage with one hand. The way she rummaged about suggested that what she was looking for was either very small or that there were many items to search through. Finally, she drew forth a shining gold cylinder. It wasn't very small.

Popping the cap off the lipstick, Ditzy leaned in and brushed aside the bag to reveal a half-dozen shining mythril-plated bombs. That Lady Sylvanas chick may have been okay with waltzing around looking practically dead, but Ditzy had assets and when ya had it ya flaunted it. She'd have much preferred her pocket mirror, but that had gone up with the stupid go-cart. Man that had been a cool explosion. The curved surface of the bomb made her big head look even bigger; her skinny neck even more spindly. "**My head don't look like a stinkin' cantaloupe!**" she cackled at the bombs before she tucked them away. She shook her cantaloupe-head as she retied the sack and re-deposited the lipstick between her big green melons.

It was going on noon. She'd run out of bombs but she still had her handy-dandy long range nail gun and several dozen more fliers. The fliers were the entire reason for her pilgrimage to the Eversong Woods. Now, the other goblins probably wouldn't have thought it wise to print up Grimegear Associates and Services Incorporated posters and then forge Gazril Blastwright's name and a free pony offer at the bottom. Sure, the Eversong woods were only populated with snotty blood elves and the occasional pissed-off Amani troll. Sure, she was probably the only goblin to have set foot here since… ever. Ditzy turned around and scanned the picturesque, eternally-springtime woods. Everywhere she looked it was all jade moss, tall healthy trees, and tiny multicolored flowers. Birds were singing high in the emerald canopy and the comfortably warm air was sweet with fragrant blossoms. She looked down at the dirt path beneath her dusty pink shoes. "**No wonder Goblins don't come out this way. Road's too narrow!**" She'd have to tell Gazril about this place. A little cutting, some cement. A few well-placed explosions and carefully executed fires and this could be some prime real estate. "**Gazril would looove this!**" She grinned wickedly. Then she'd definitely get that Coffee-Getter position she'd been practically dying for… ever since that other bitch had 'mysteriously' disappeared.

So maybe using shrapnel bombs to blast posters all over the Eversong woods to advertise for a guild that dealt in shady dealings wasn't exactly common practice, but Ditzy was a thinker; a revolutionary! She was a goblin pioneer with exciting visions for all of goblinkind, not to mention she was exceedingly cute and had great taste in clothes. Now all that remained was for her peers to wake up and recognize her genius! Really, what was the worst that could happen? Were one of her posters to get into the wrong set of hands, what could they possibly do anyway, arrest her? Ditzy faced straight forward, her normally wide-eyed gaze going half-lidded as if she'd suddenly become drunk or tired. Her mouth became a straight line. The end of her tongue stuck out, caught between her thick lips during the abrupt change in expression. Her lower left eyelid started to twitch spastically, and a muscle in her right cheek joined in. A split second later, she was smiling and shaking her head, bright yellow pigtails slapping at her face as she rolled her eyes at the absurdity of it all. She hiked up the back of her sagging tights and waved her free hand dismissively at the disturbing notion that her genius plan could ever fail, "**Naaaaaaaaaaah**."

At some point during her reverie, she'd dropped the near-empty bag she'd been carrying. Bending over, not paying any mind to the fact that were anyone to happen by they'd get an eyeful of very pink tights stretched over very red panties stretched over very round green hiney (And that had nothing to do with the fact that nobody was around), Ditzy grabbed the remaining stack of fliers and her long range nail gun. Man she loved that gun, even if it did backfire sometimes. "**Love ya, Toots**," she kissed the side of the gun, leaving a long, pink smudge on the misshapen, dented steel. Unsurprisingly, the makeup on her lips, which she'd paused to reapply more often than she'd stopped to explode poster-bombs, didn't appear to have thinned at all.

She left the bag lying on the path and marched off in search of a good spot for advertising.

Woods was woods was woods, and she was starting to get really bored after about thirty seconds of looking for that perfect spot for the remainder of her posters. That was when she noticed the squirrel. It was soft brown and had huge black eyes and long tufted ears. Its tail was super fluffy and it looked like the cuddliest thing in the world. "**How cuuuuuuute**," Ditzy giggled as she poked the butt-end of a nail into the business end of the gun. Pulling back the spring-loaded hammer, she slapped a poster onto the nail and then took aim. A sunbeam squeezed through the trees and fell directly on it, at a dramatic angle like a spotlight. The squirrel was sitting on a mossy boulder, eating an acorn that was massive in comparison to its teeny-tiny paws. Ditzy had time to exclaim over the squirrel's silky-looking little digits, "_**AWWWW!**_" just before the poster slammed into a nearby tree, the nail pinning it securely in place.

The squirrel tossed the acorn aside and took three spastic leaps, its tail dancing with electric jerks each time it landed. It froze; its shiny black eyes large as it watched the brightly colored, noisy intruder. "**Hey! Stay still ya little brat!**" Ditzy reloaded the nail gun and slapped another sheet on before taking aim. The squirrel jumped at the last moment and the poster ended up pinned about a foot off the ground on the trunk of a nearby tree. The printed side was against the bark. "**Rude!**" she screamed.

Moving with frightening speed, for one running on such ludicrously designed shoes, the pigtailed menace shagged after the squirrel amidst a string of shrieking derogatory remarks, mixed with "ooh's" and "aah's" of adoration at its cuteness, and the occasional plea for it to 'just hold still a sec'. To witness the way the multicolor-garbed goblin girl hustled after the panic-stricken rodent in a blur of color and mixed vulgarities might have rendered the gentle viewer bonkers, or at the very least caused seizures.

The two left a trail of right-side-up, upside-down, and backward posters pinned on several trees, and in the skull of one hapless dragonhawk. Before you get all upset, Mister or Miss Reader, you should know that the dragonhawk was quite aged. It was on its last legs. It also wasn't very cute. So stop being such a brat, **ya _RUUUUDE_**!

The squirrel, however, was exceedingly cute. It was grossly adorable. "**Get back here you fluffy little jerk!**" This was gonna be great! What better way to advertise than to have the world's cutest squirrel running around with her poster on it? Gazril would make her the G.A.S.I. Coffee-Getter supreme! She'd be Senior Coffee-Getter! Shit, they'd make a new rank for her; Senior Captain Coffee-and-Assorted-Refreshment-Getter-Matriarch! "**Please, Tootsie! I NEED this rank!**" The toe of her pump-boot-sneaker caught on a stone and jarred her toe painfully. "**It's just a piercing you BRAT!**" she growled angrily, waving the gun as she sprinted, yanking her tights up as they slipped toward her knees.

The two burst through a thick underbrush, panting from the exertion of the speedy chase.

"**Oh shh…**" The squirrel executed a final, majestic leap, bounding easily over the fallen tree that blocked their path, its tail spinning like a lopsidedly loose rudder as its agile limbs stretched and found purchase on a nearby tree at the last possible moment. With a final triumphant flick of its tail, the squirrel disappeared into the canopy.

"**… iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…**" Ditzy wasn't so lucky. Though in the instant she saw the tree, she knew with heartbreaking clarity that she didn't have a chance in Hellfire to clear it; she bent her knees deep and kicked off, arms pin-wheeling frantically as she prepared for the painful impact. Ditzy was a fast thinker. Her fast thoughts were often unrelated to the situation, and more often than not didn't do anything to help matters, but they were really fast. She had time to think, 'Well at least I don't have any more bombs on me.' Then she thought, 'Man what a cool way to go, though.' She started to think, 'I wish I had a pony' but then she thought, 'Holy shit I totally just cleared that log!'

"**Cooooooool!**" she flew headlong through a second curtain of low-hanging green. "**Oof!**"

Picture this: _A grassy clearing. All lush and soft and perfect and shit, right? There's like maybe some butterflies and ladybugs fluttering around, all picturesque-like. An inchworm is chilling out on a blade of grass and he's just bopping his little inchworm butt all over the place. It's a great day and he's the king of inchworms. The sun is shining. The birds are singing. Oh, and then a screaming goblin shoots out of the woods and slams facedown into the grass. _So that's basically how it went down. Now that we're on the same page…

Ditzy lay flat on the grass. Her face was buried in the ground, pigtails spread, arms spread, skirt yanked up to her shoulders. Her petticoat-vest thing was yanked up over her head. Strangely enough, her tights were yanked down. Legs were the only part of her that weren't flat. Instead they were bent up over her back. The laces of her shoes had come undone and they swung back and forth as they dangled over the green skin of her exposed back. A halo of flyers surrounded the downed goblin. A single, crumpled sheet was clutched stubbornly in one outstretched hand. The nail gun lay next to the other hand.

Ditzy lifted her head, reached up and picked a piece of grass out of her mouth, "**ew-uh**." She pushed herself up, settled her butt back on her lower legs and pushed down her shirt with a dainty, "_hmph._" She lifted her hands, turned them over for inspection. No broken nails. Sighing, she stood up and shoved her skirt down, bent and yanked her tights back up for the thousandth time that day. There was an unpleasant ripping sound and she rolled her eyes, "**Greaaaat**." Her stupid tights were always getting runs. Beauty was expensive. Good thing she got the thieves' discount when she was low on cash. "**Both halves off everything ya can carry!**" she snickered. Bartering, after all, was so low-class.

She'd dropped the balled-up paper and now she picked it back up and uncrumpled it, smoothing it against her breast. Gathering the rest of the fliers, she snatched up her gun and marched forward. Ditzy stopped.

"**Oh wow**." In the not-so-far distance, about a quarter mile ahead in the clearing, she could see what appeared to be a troll lying on the ground with his back to her. She saw trolls all the time, so that wasn't really that exciting. What had caught her interest was the colorful array of little fabric things spread out all around him. Even at this distance, Ditzy knew what she was seeing. Ditzy had eagle-eyes when it came to her interests. And the thing she beheld now certainly ranked high in her interests. Lingerie. "Yard sale," she whispered reverently.

Nodding absently, she began to march forward. There was a lot of underwear to pick through. This could take many hours. With that in mind, she knew she had to keep her eye on the prize. She was a Coffee-Getter first, a sexy momma with a huge lingerie wardrobe first and a half. Well, she would be a Coffee-Getter, as long as she got these stupid fliers up. With a last, longing glance at the glorious lingerie yard sale (Oooh, she saw a dress, too!), Ditzy set to work on the nearest trees.

* * *

Two people deserve big thanks for this series of chapters.

The first is the girl who goes by the penname Five Shades. We private messaged back and forth a few times and she had mentioned that she enjoyed Larizu as he appeared in Brekk's story, "At The River". She asked if he had a back story and if he'd be in any more shorts, and I told her that I'd honestly yanked him out of my ass to give Brekky-boy some heals, but told her I might give it a shot. I'm glad I did. Thanks, girl. A lot!

Second, Ornak-The-Super-Awesome-Guy, aka, Gazril Blastwright. This lully roleplayer has been up my butt to write a goblin story for a really long time. At first the idea didn't really appeal. Then I got curious because he kept mentioning it. But the idea felt a bit daunting because I just couldn't think of a damned thing. So, I let Larizu sit out in a field of panties and Ditzy just showed up! I reserved the name Ditzy on Moon Guard just this evening, and I look forward to holding the honorable position of Coffee-Getter come Cataclysm. ::crosses fingers::

One last and I swear I'll shut the fuck up. I'm feeling gushy right now. Blame it on the caffeine. Chuck reads my shit. Chuck lets me read my shit to him, even with my obnoxious speech-impediment, so that I can catch my failtastic typos. Chuck also puts up with my daily evil-doings. Thanks Chuck.


	3. Holyman

_Gods and Loa forgive me, for I have sinned, mon. It been a long ass time since I been tied up and beat into confessin' and dat was for skippin' out on a debt, so I guess it don't rightly apply in dis case. My sins be many, but I try and cover dem all for da sake of honesty. I be stealin'. I be gamblin' wit gold I ain't got, but I guess dat count as stealin' too. I be coppin' a feel off some ladies dat maybe be a bit more passed out den dey was conscious, and one guy but mon I swear I didn't know dat at da time. Oh, and some of my tinctures be nuttin' but da snake oil, and I don't mean da kind dat be comin' from no snake. I be givin' bad advice to stupid people on purpose and I pissed in dem orc's soup cauldron… twice. I also shit on dat goblin cartel's front step and pissed… Ya know what we should skip all da piss and shit stuff cause I be sort of pressed for time. What I mean is, I know I been a real piece of work and a pretty shitty priest. I'm a spiteful, cheatin' son of a bitch, but if ya could see fit to make dis crazy goblin bitch go away and leave Larizu be, I promise to be a better holy mon in da future and try and mend my ways. Oh, and it would be nice if I don't catch da fire piss, because I ain't got no clue what da hell I been up to last night. All of ya be praised._

"**Watcha thiiiinkiiiiing?**" Ditzy batted her false eyelashes at the troll who was bent down before her. Larizu stared testily for a moment before parting his lips to answer. His mouth made a quiet, dry pop as his lips stuck. "Was wonderin' what color ya turn if I choke ya." The heavily made-up goblin girl cackled and waved the flier at the troll, "**Kiiinkyyyy!**" Shaking her yellow pigtails, she tugged at the edges of the page in a very official manner and continued reading her own words silently, though her big pink lips moved the entire time.

Larizu stared at her with the fascination of one looking at a particularly disgusting piece of shit that they had narrowly missed treading in, barefoot. The goblin was bright green, three feet tall with the addition of the big rubber heels on the pink monstrosities that served her as shoes. The rest of her getup was no less ridiculous; a purple skirt that was all folded around the edges like a curtain and far too short, pink tights that bunched around the knees like wrinkly elekk skin, and which she was constantly hiking up at the waist in a very unladylike manner. Her shirt was a cross between a half-open leather vest and a petticoat, and it was a mystery to Larizu what the hell such a shirt was even designed for. Maybe the designer just wanted to see if anyone would buy it. Maybe it was a really ugly hat. Or it was a bag. Or a shoe. Around her skinny green neck she wore a bright pink ribbon with a golden clasp-and-chain closure that had swung around from the back. Though he couldn't see the ornament that belonged at the front, he was sure that it was both huge and ugly. As if reading his mind, the goblin reached up with one long-clawed hand and fixed her choker, revealing a big green gem in an ugly gold setting. Her claws were painted pink. She kept reading.

Her shoes were so fucking ugly. Larizu felt his eyes drawn to them again. They were pink. Pink as hell. Pinker than pink, and they made his brain ache. They had these ridiculously thick rubber soles with high heels and they came up to her calves like boots. The uppers weren't made of what appeared to be normal leather, but some sort of stiff fabric. Like canvas, but pink. The thick, flat laces were drawn, criss-cross through eyelets that were lined with metal rivets - also painted pink. The paint was chipping. The ugly ass shoes had seen better days, though he was sure they'd been no less ugly.

The troll shook his head slowly and blinked several times. His eyes hurt from all the pink. He lifted his gaze; he didn't have to look far, a little over two feet, so that he was looking at the top of her head. Her hair was yellow. It was not blond. It was epic yellow. It was beyond piss yellow. He groaned inwardly at the pink ribbons she'd used to tie her pigtails in place. "Fuck my eyes, mon," he groaned.

"Shhh. _Rude_. Reading," Ditzy mumbled. Larizu let his eyes roll up and close. He swallowed and his adam's apple rose and fell. He wondered how the hell he had gotten into the Eversong woods, why he couldn't remember coming there, and how he had acquired so many panties. He began to wonder why he still remained in this field with this obnoxiously noisy goblin, but he knew the answer to that… Larizu loved his blood elf women. No, he didn't love them; he was obsessed. He was waiting to see if they'd come back to claim all of their pretty underthings. So instead of wondering why he remained, he wondered how long he would remain. "As long as it takes, mon."

"**Rude! I said shut UP!**" Ditzy didn't bother to look as she lashed out with the back of one hand, swinging an arm that was nearly the length of her body at the interrupting troll. Larizu melted silently to the ground, eyes bugging out, hot and strangely itchy. He grunted, gasped and closed them as his own long arms went between his legs and his knees crossed to pin them there. His bare feet curled up as if they sought to become outraged fists. Every muscle in his neck stood out and he felt as if his ears were on fire all the way to their long, pointed tips. His balls hurt. Then his belly hurt. He thought he might puke. Then he thought he might shit himself.

The goblin finally lowered the flier to look at the troll as he rolled so that his back was to her. "**What the…?**" There was the rustle of paper as Ditzy crossed her arms. She leaned one hip out and tapped the toe of a neon pink monster-shoe impatiently. "**You've got ta be gidding me! It was a love tap! I barely brushed ya, ya drama queen! Sheesh what a baby!**" Ditzy waited for the troll to respond. She waited a full second and he didn't. "**Well? Ya got my attention!**" Still no reply, and this time she'd waited two. "_**Bolts**_," she growled, stomping a circle around the curled up troll so that she stood in front of him.

Larizu felt her looming over his prone form, blocking the sunlight with her evil presence. She was a spot of cool on the side of his face, where the rest of him was warmed by the afternoon sun. He sought to bury his face in the ground, managing to catch only an itchy tickle of grass up his nostrils and a bit of dirt between his lips at the base of his right tusk. His typically long troll nose was bent against the ground. "Go away," he mumbled into the earth.

"**Man what a crybaby**." The little green terror's voice didn't just make his ears hurt, it made his balls hurt. How was that even possible? His Loa had heard his prayers. They had reported to his higher Gods. They were having a good laugh at his expense. This bitch was his punishment. Larizu should have been a warrior or a rogue. At least they didn't profess in the names of the spirits. Their fuckups could go unnoticed and therefore unpunished.

A rubber sole prodded him in the forehead and he grunted unhappily. Would this demon never let him be? "Ya knocked my nuts, ya crazy bitch," the troll groaned. "**Huh? Oh!**" The goblin chuckled, much to the priest's chagrin. "**Say, since ya already dye your mohawk, have you ever considered going like purple or pink?**" Larizu gasped with a start as he felt her creepy little fingers messing around in his hair. "**Oooh, soft!**" He'd have grabbed for a skinny green wrist, brought it to his mouth and maybe bitten down until he felt the satisfying crunch of bone and the spongy salt of raw marrow, but his hands were feeling shy about leaving his crotch and his thighs were feeling clingy about his hands. So he settled for a sickened shudder and answered in a very flat voice, "No."

"**Well, if ya want I can totally hook you up! I'm great with hair. I colored my own. I do all my own makeup, ya know. I do my own wardrobe, too! I had these babies custom-made! They're my own original design!**" Larizu frowned into the grass as he felt a rubber toe tap him on his upper shoulder. The angle indicated that she was now sitting on the ground as she played with his hair.

Why the hell was he letting her mess with his hair? Well, it felt sort of good. Larizu wasn't big on dignity, as long as nobody was looking. So he let the goblin wench mess with his hair for a bit. After all, he had nothing else to do while he waited for his horny blood-elf harem to return, and this big-mouthed, psychotic defiler-of-fashion obviously wasn't going to leave willingly. His Loa had abandoned him to his fate, so… fuck it. Let the bitch play with his hair if it kept her relatively quiet. Aaaah, yeah right by da ear. No, mon, don't kick da leg like a friggin' dog. Be cool, bruddah.

"**Hey, you listening?**" Larizu replied fuzzily, "Hmm? Oh, yeah. Shoes, mon. Ya own design." Ditzy continued raking her fingertips through his long, fuzzy mohawk. She was babbling incessantly and he caught a few words and phrases here and there, "flier bomb", "coffee", "most adorable squirrel", "rainbow pony", "lipstick", "heist", "ganked that bitch", "switchblade", "shoes", "wishbone", "deluxe apartment in the sky"…

"What?" Larizu turned his head to the side and kept his eyes squeezed shut as she'd shifted at some point during the one-sided conversation and the sunlight now warmed his eyelids. "**Yeah, it was like stuck in my throat, so I grabbed some pliers and a knife**…" Larizu reluctantly let his thighs relax enough to pull out one hand and squeeze his nose, relieving the tickle the grass had left there. "No no no, not dat. Ya said sometin' about sky apartments?" Ditzy stopped petting his hair and paused, "**Oh, yeah!**" she continued after a moment. "**They got this city in the sky, Dalaran, right? It's like for mages and stuff. The whole thing is like towers and lights and streets paved with gold as _faaaar_ as the _eye_ can _seeeee_.**" Her tone was wistful, almost breathless with wonder.

Larizu smiled inwardly as he listened to Ditzy's childlike wonder and the fantasy description of a city he had visited and wouldn't have thought could possibly be exaggerated until now. The troll may have smiled a bit outwardly, as well, when her hand went back to his hair. He definitely felt a little grateful. Prostitutes didn't do hair petting and he'd never thought to ask. He'd have to ask. It couldn't be too expensive, compared to the other weird shit he dreamed up.

"**There's ponies, too, I think. I mean, like, if you're gonna have a city in the sky ya might as well have ponies. Bolts, I'd have like a million ponies if I lived there. Correction. WHEN I live there. I'm gonna have so many ponies. Holy crap! I wonder if I can pay someone ta get those to float! You know what I heard?**" Ditzy paused, but more importantly, the hand in his hair paused. "What did ya hear?" the troll quickly answered. "**I heard**," she paused for dramatic effect, her fingers going to the base of his ear and messing with the lobe before squeezing softly all the way to the long tip and back down. This time his leg did kick, slightly. His fists also clenched. Larizu didn't notice. "**I heard**," she repeated, staring into the distance distractedly, "**that they got mythril and gold-plated crappers, with fancy-ass plumbing up there in Dalaran!**" she cackled. "**How cool is THAT?**"

Larizu chuckled with honest appreciation. Not only was the fact that she obviously believed it very funny, but the idea of taking a shit on a golden toilet bordered on hilarious. "And dey be full of da night elfie's precious moonwell water?" Ditzy tugged at his ear a bit painfully in response, and his growl wasn't entirely one of displeasure, "**How the hell didja KNOW?**" He didn't have the heart to tell her he'd been there, and so Larizu only shrugged, "Just a guess, mon."

"**Wow, you must be like psychic. Hey are you a mage?**" Larizu propped himself up on his right elbow and shaded his eyes to regard the goblin. She was sitting on the ground near his head. Propped up as he was, she was about eye-to-eye with him. She was sitting in a manner best suited for pants, especially given the fact that her tights had become quite crotchless (though it was obvious they'd not been designed that way) and he got an eyeful of bright red underpants. Larizu didn't let his gaze linger, and it had nothing to do with politeness. He focused instead on her very painted face. She wore sky-blue eye shadow that extended all the way to her high arched brows and her false eyelashes were thick with clumpy black mascara. The sight of her painted pink lips made him smile, though not in the way she probably intended. Ditzy grinned back.

"Why ya ask dat?" The goblin shook her head, yellow pigtails bouncing as she gave him a you-must-be-stupid look. "**Why else would ya be wearing a skirt?**" Larizu lowered one hairless eyebrow at her, "It be a sarong. Dere's a big difference." He shot up a hand to shush her the moment her face broke out into a giant shit-eating grin, "No more sarong jokes. Dey all worn out." Ditzy crossed her arms and started to retort. Larizu beat her to it, "Rude!" Tilting her head and puffing out her chubby cheeks as she narrowed her eyes, the goblin snapped, "**Brat!**" Larizu shrugged, "I been called worse, mon." He'd also received far worse than a kick between the eyes with a giant pink shoe, but he also wasn't prepared. "Shit!" Larizu covered his forehead and closed his eyes. It didn't kill, but it hurt more than he could have anticipated, given her size. Man, the goblin could move fast. "**Ruuude!**" came the huffy squeal. Pfft. As if he'd kicked HER in the head.

When he finally thought it safe to unshield his forehead, Larizu found Ditzy sitting in the same position she'd been before her little martial outburst. "**So? Are ya?**" she continued as though nothing had happened. "Rude? … yeah, mon." Ditzy laughed and reached out to slap him playfully on the forehead. He was a little embarrassed when he flinched. "**No, dumbass. I meant a mage!**" Larizu shrugged and shook his head as he sat up, glad to get his face out of whacking range. "Nah. I'm actually a priest." The pair blinked at each other. "**A shadow priest?**" Larizu just stared at her. Ditzy rolled her eyes and shoved her hand in her Brobdingnagian* green cleavage. Larizu began to raise his hands in surrender, his hackles quite literally rising at the prospect of whatever weapon she was fishing around for. She produced a lipstick and popped the cap off, staring at him as she somehow spoke and applied the greasy pink goo at the same time, "**You know… like a warlock that calls themselves a priest and goes around using shadow voodoo to smite their enemies to death! COOL! Can you show me how to melt a face?**" Larizu scratched his cheek, "No." Recapping the lipstick, Ditzy shoved it deep in her boob-space.

The priest noticed just then that her panty selection was gone. He had a feeling he knew where those had disappeared to. "**Aw, c'mon. Don't be such a loser. Just a little face? Like on a cat? I swear I'll only use it for the forces of evil…**" Larizu slapped a hand over his forehead and then quickly removed it because his forehead was sore. Man, that bitch could kick. He hoped the bruise wouldn't look like a shoe. His tinctures were all back in Orgrimmar and it would take a day to get there. "I am a priest of da healin' discipline," he began in a forced tone. "I mend wounds, mon. I be healin' da sick."

Ditzy's normally wide-eyed stare became half-lidded, as if she were drunk. Her lips parted ever so slightly. Larizu thought maybe he heard a really quiet fart. Her hands had fallen to the grass at her sides. One of her shoelaces was untied and a breeze kicked up, causing the shoelace and her ruffled skirt to lift sideways and then fall. The errant breeze faded, thankfully carrying away any possible fart odor before Larizu could smell it. She was so utterly still that Larizu could have sworn he saw the pulse in her heavily painted eyelids.

Gradually, at such a lethargic pace that it seemed as though time itself had stopped for the goblin, Ditzy's eyelids began to draw back again. This occurred so slowly that the clouds in the patch of sky Larizu could see behind her seemed to race like darting fish. A tattered bird feather stuck to a blade of grass just behind the frozen goblin, and when another gentle gust rolled through the feather seemed to shoot off like a bullet, so slow were Ditzy's eyelids moving.

At around the same pace, Larizu felt a lump begin rising in his throat. What the hell? Was she having a fit? He wasn't concerned for her safety so much as his own. It was already quite obvious that this little green female was insane and quite dangerous for her size. The troll was disconcerted to observe that her eyes were now so wide that the lids had all but disappeared. What was she gonna explode?

Then her jaw dropped… and she exploded. "…**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**...!" Larizu leapt to his feet, backpedaled and fell on his bony ass with a painful jolt. He was screaming too, but his own voice was no match for the explosive howl that was issuing forth from the goblin's lungs. "…..**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**…!" The unlikely priest couldn't even continue fleeing. The sound was too horrific. He pressed his hands to his sensitive ears and stared in rabbit-like terror as the primitive beast in him took over.

"…..." Now, were the primitive beast to be evoked in the average troll, the general consensus is that the resulting reaction would be best described as fight-or-flight. Or, as graphically illustrated in about 50% of documented cases, fight-or-fuck (trolls like to draw fucking and fighting). Larizu, however, was perfectly suited to his modern lifestyle, and so when greeted with this sudden and unexpected threat, he went into his surprised defensive mode: flight-or-piss. Larizu was about one minute away from pissing. Fighting was the backup plan, followed by groveling and maybe crying.

"…**AAAAAAAAA**…" Her eyes were lidless now, huge and round and insane as they showed all the whites. Her long, skinny rose over her head, hands balled into tight fists until the knuckles were so pale that they were nearly yellow. "...**AAAAAAAAAAA**…"

Larizu would have prayed to all his Loa and Gods but he was beyond all rational thought. His hands were pressed so tightly to his ears that his jaw and tusks ached but he continued pressing. His pointy elbows were bent out to the sides, head dipped low as he stared in horror at the wailing goblin-siren. His shoulders were hunched protectively and every muscle in his arms stood out as he squeezed the sides of his head as though he sought to collapse his skull in to escape the mindless terror that seized him.

"...****!" Ditzy threw her head back and brought her fists down to the ground with two loud thumps. Her heels pounded the ground as she drummed her shoes and cackled hysterically. Larizu trembled, the thin white ridge of fur that normally lie flat and invisible against his spine standing up ramrod straight on his bare back. His ears were ringing so loudly that he could no longer hear; could only see her bouncing with her own laughter as she kicked and shook her giant head at the sky.

After what seemed an eternity, a mother-fucking dragon's age perpetual infinity, she became winded enough that her laughter was only twice the volume of what might be deemed bearable. Larizu hesitantly let his hands drop, mostly because his wrists and head hurt. The blood rushing to his ears was no picnic. Despite the fact that the 'danger' had passed, his heart was still tripping almost painfully and he had to do a mental check to be sure he hadn't indeed pissed. A moth brushed his bicep and he let out a guttural cry as he swatted it away.

The goblin was still laughing. Her hands were folded over her belly and she was doubled over, her massive tits shaking, barely contained in the tightly-laced shirt. Gathering himself shakily from the ground, Larizu settled into a more natural squatting position. His sarong had flapped open in the front and he growled as he hastily yanked it closed. "**I saw that**," Ditzy interrupted her cackling to announce soberly. Before he could respond she was howling at the sky again and the troll could only glare at her icily and fold his arms across his chest. Finally, if only to get her to shut the fuck up for a second, Larizu asked, "What da fuck ya goin' on about?" Ditzy snorted and swallowed as she matched his gaze. "**You… a h-holy troll!**" She burst into another giggle fit, "**Hahahaha! La-hahaha… Larizu… Use the puh-power of the light to fuh-fihill me with righteous glohory s-so that I m-muh-might smite the fuh-forces of… huhuhuh… of EVIL! Ahaha! What a riot! Holy shit!**"

Larizu stared mutely as the goblin lowered her voice in a parody of his, somehow mixing her obnoxious goblin accent with an approximation of his own trollish. "**Yeah mon hahaha! S-sure ting m-mon! Hahahahahah! We be vanquishin' dem shit en den I gonna sell some dem… hahahah! Some dem yuh-yuh… uhuhuh! AHAHA! USED _PANTIES MON!_ AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!**"

He should have been offended. Shit, he was offended. He was a failed priest, reduced to using tinctures and muted versions of earth and holy magic because the light was stingy with its blessing when it came to Larizu, as were the elements, and he couldn't blame either. The truth fucking hurt. But the best comedy comes from the painful truth. Despite himself, Larizu began to chuckle. Before long the chuckle drew out and became full-blown, raucous laughter. "Hardly, mon! I mostly be relyin' on da tinctures and bandages fer healin'. Da light be pissed wit Larizu!" he blurted out, laughing. "**Oh man, what a gas! I'd sure hate to be you!**" Ditzy chimed in merrily. "Yeah but at least my skirt be long enough ta cover my ass!" Larizu howled, slapping his thigh.

"**Too bad you only got one nut!**" she cackled. Larizu's laughter slowed. That one went below the belt, quite literally. He was hoping she hadn't noticed that. Surprisingly, not many did. "Ya only need one, mon. Ya got ugly shoes." He was satisfied to see that she winced at that and looked at each shoe in turn, "_**DO NOT!**_" He said each word slowly, drawing them out. "Do. Too."

"**Yeah? Well you got a tiny dick!**"

"It be a grower, not a shower, mon."

"**Whatever**," she snorted, "**Like I'd take the word of a skirt-wearin', one-nut hack priest who peddles used underwear in the stinkin' woods**." She fluffed one pigtail.

"Your hair be da color of piss."

"**Sunshine!**"

"PISS!"

"**Your tusks are tiny**."

"Oh dat is so fuckin' it." Larizu leapt to his feet, as did Ditzy. "**I'm gonna bend your tiny baby tusks**." "I'm gonna slap da pink off ya ugly face." "**Bring it, holyman!**" "It already been brung, mon!"

Larizu stomped angrily toward the goblin, his vision tunneling until all he could see was his own hands, bent into claws as they framed his view of her giant head staring balefully up at him. "Ya be so finished, girlie." He reached for her, and she disappeared.

"Da f-? AAAHAAA," he sobbed. "OH YA NASTY LITTLE MOTHAH!" Larizu twisted around and tried to bat at the goblin, who had dove between his legs and clamped onto the back of his heel, just above the dewclaw. "OH SHI-HI-HIT I GONNA KILL YA!" his voice was shrill with pain as he danced about. Ditzy hung on tight, letting her pointed teeth do all the work, her body completely limp as she tittered through a mouthful of blood. "**Ya like that holyman?**" Her words were too muffled to understand, but it was the thought that counted.

Spinning desperately, the little biter just out of his reach, Larizu forced himself to stop moving. His breath came in high-pitched whines as he pressed his balled fists to either side of his head, eyes bloodshot as he twisted around to stare at her. Let go let go let go you bitch let go please for da love of all tings good and evil and neutral let da fuck go… He could have cried when her bite loosened. He did cry when she chomped down a little further up. "NO-HO-HO!"

The troll started to run across the field in a panic, wailing hysterically and babbling to his gods in a desperate mixture of both orcish and Zandalari, "Save me from dis demon! Atak beh atal nihi! Ow! OWOW! Itek misa ika teloa ta'aan PLEASE FA DA LOVE OF DA- OOOOW! Sa atal no more no more tiktaan dis- GAAAAAAAAAH! MONSTAH! Larizu be good! Mend my ways! Larizu be atal'loa! Light! Grant me da strengt ta knock dis bitch- AHOW! Shango! Lukou! OW FUCKIT! HAKKAAAAR!" Ditzy remained limp; expertly allowing her body to flop over each grassy knoll as the panicked troll stomped and kicked and zigzagged all over the field. She giggled around her mouthful of troll. "Fuck my life DAT HUUURT!"

"Woah!" Larizu threw his hands up just in time as he tripped and flew forward. Ditzy felt the troll's legs rising and she let go at just the right moment. The goblin went soaring over his head as the inertia of his flight flung his long legs over his back. He caught a glimpse of her flying end-over-end before his slightly smaller than average tusks plowed into the ground and his vision was obscured by the grass he was growing accustomed to. "**Aaaaawesooooooome!**" Ditzy exclaimed as she sailed weightlessly through the air. The goblin didn't land with a whump, so much as many small thuds, as she rolled and tumbled several times before landing on her ass. When she realized she was sitting up, she flung her arms in the air and shrieked, "**Holy shit! Did you see that?**"

Larizu let the grass suck the angry heat from his tear-streaked face as the blood gushed from his ruined flesh and soaked the ground. Several yards in front of him, Ditzy sat with her back to the troll, facing the woods. The goblin lowered her arms and reached into her cleavage and began rummaging around.

* * *

* I used that word just to make you look it up. I'm feeling "Ditzyish" xD BOLTS!


	4. Hero!

_Okay, now ya just bein' spiteful. I should know. I be one spiteful troll. What else ya want from me, Loa? I already confess my sins. I promise I gonna try and mend my shitty ways. So what do ya do? Ya turn ya backs in my hour of need and let dis goblin bitch mangle my damn leg. Fuck but dat hurt. I can't even look, mon, for fear dat da shit don't even be attached. Larizu don't deserve dis shit, mon. Nobody deserve dis shit. I never question ya, even when dey took my nut and my eye… Okay, yeah I did sort of renounce ya all and build a few effigies outta kodo shit en burn dem down, but I was drunk and I had only one fuckin' nut. Besides, I came back, right? I apologized, didn't I? Ya be da ones dat spose ta have all dat infinite wisdom and shit. Larizu only be mortal._

_Much as I be fuckin' up, I be healin', don't I? And it ain't like ya be doin' all dat much helpin' wit it lately. What I'm sayin' is, ya gods and Loa should cut me some fuckin' slack or Larizu liable to go all apeshit and get into dat demon juju and start really cut- … Ya know what? I'm sorry. I'm under da duress… Da temporary insanity. Let's just forget da whole ting. If ya see fit ta let Larizu keep his badly mangled leg, dat be nice though, because I ain't pointin' no fingers but I ain't be havin' da best of luck wit shit dat should be in pairs. Praise all ya names and I hope we can just let da bygones be gone and goodbye? _

_Uh, Light if ya be payin' attention maybe ya could talk wit da Loa and let dem know I heal ya children much better if I got two fuckin' legs. Tanks._

Larizu turned his mind from his higher powers to the hurt that assaulted his left leg, from the heel all the way to the middle of the calf. The troll would have preferred to keep his thoughts away from the intense pain, but he needed to take a break from his one-way conversation with the gods, before he incensed them further and got a thunderbolt up the ass or ended up with nothing where he still retained half-a-pair of something. He laid facedown, five-inch-long, curved tusks buried in the ground. His tusks were actually seven and three quarter inches long; if you peeled back his lower lip so far that it pinched. Larizu had measured in the mirror. Often.

His nose was bent at an uncomfortable angle and his breath whistled through his nostrils. His right hand was thrust upward and lay palm-down in the grass. His left was stretched out to the side, bent down at the elbow so that the hand was palm up, clenched into a fist. The fist was holding a torn out chunk of grass, earthy clump of roots and all. The white roots that stuck out of the dirt clod like stringy hair swayed slightly, a few chunks of brown soil loosening and tumbling out of the troll's grasp. A small earthworm squeezed from between his two blue fingers and plopped to the ground, disappearing between the blades of green as it sought out the cooler, loamy depths. Larizu was too preoccupied to notice.

All was quiet. Well, all was not perfectly quiet, but there was the distinct lack of a certain screeching mad cackle amidst the normal afternoon birdsong and quiet intermittent leaf-rustle of the surrounding forest. Had he not been so wrapped up in the suffocating, scratchy-tight blanket of pain, Larizu might have been grateful for that. On some level he might have been, but in the more immediate space of his consciousness he was best defined as wretched. He had all the remaining sentient thought of a bug, pinned through the guts by a pointy stick as its innards baked in the sun. He was pain and pain and nothing else. He was anguish incarnate, the apotheosis of misery, the epitome of suffering. Actually, he was conscious enough that he was thinking all of those dramatic things, but his ears were ringing from the pain and he was actually in a great amount of it.

He could feel the blood as it gushed from the wounds, tumbling over either side of his ankle to run down the front of his shin and coat his knee before soaking the earth. He felt it slow from what was initially just short of a pumping spray to a steady stream; finally becoming a lazy river of gore, warm and sticky where his knee met the ground. He would have to tend to that. The bleeding had slowed quickly, given how grievous the wound must indeed be; thank the stingy fucking Loa for the regenerative properties of trolls. _Sorry, Loa! Larizu didn't mean dat!_ Still, bleeding was bleeding and while trolls were great at mending up, it didn't mean they'd been designed to withstand crazy biter goblin bitches.

Speaking of crazy goblins, he hoped she'd slammed into a tree or worse… Larizu grit his teeth and drew his arms in toward his chest, pushing off the ground as he kept his weight centered on his wrists and knees. He leaned back gingerly, trying to let the weight balance between his knees and his uninjured right leg, but the left one still felt it and he cried out in pain. His right hand shot down and clutched at the tensely bulging muscles of his thigh through the thin fabric of his sarong. His left flew up to his face, abruptly cutting off his own anguished scream as he slammed a wad of grass and a massive clump of dirt into his gaping mouth and down his throat. Eyes swelling, he coughed and yanked at the grass, managing to pull out most of the dirt and toss it aside.

The troll's eyes watered as he tried to breathe in and only managed to suck more gritty soil into his wheezing trachea. Coughing out and then taking in tortuously brief gasps that were only getting shorter, he leaned forward on both hands, trying to gag. His vision began to darken.

Ditzy sat where she had landed, comfortably, facing the woods with her legs splayed out in front of her. She was no worse for wear, except that she'd had to wipe a bit of troll blood from her mouth and refresh her lipstick. She'd used a pair of the panties she had stuffed down her shirt. They were ugly ones, anyway. After she balled them up, she had chucked them and they now dangled in a nearby tree.

The goblin held up her hands for inspection before she reached down and began thumbing through the row of tools she had laid out. "**Hmm…**" There were files of assorted shapes, lengths and material. Alongside those were tweezers, a half-dried bottle of pink polish with more dried polish on the outside than on the inside, industrial tin snips, a ratcheting screwdriver, a compact telescoping jeweler's lense that fit directly over the eye, and a worn out toothbrush with a sharpened handle. Oh, and there was also a lipstick, of course. Ditzy plucked up a rather large, flat file and began drawing it back and forth across her claw idly as she stared into space. "**I wonder if a Coffee-Getter gets to wear a badge… I wonder if I get a gun or I have to bring one of my own**…"

Somewhere behind her, Mister Meanie-brat Rudeman Holytroll was making some kind of a fuss. Ditzy either didn't notice or didn't care. She just kept filing away, staring into the woods, chatting with herself about the important things in life. "**Maybe I should ditch the pink thing and do a purple fashion line. Or maybe lime green**." She rubbed her fingernails across her skirt and found a snag, "**Bolts**." Bringing the file to the offending claw, she quickly smoothed out the burr and switched hands.

Now the troll was making noises that sound like, "Kak kek kak!" What an attention-whore. "**Hmm… Maybe purple sneakers with green stripes… And more heel!**" She squealed with delight as she clapped her hands together. Blowing the whitish claw-dust off her fingers, she gathered up the files, polish, tweezers, toothbrush-surprise, screwdriver, tin snips, and pocket knife and caught them between her hands, making a wedge which she then dove between her morbidly ample breasts, parting them and withdrawing her hands quickly; tits bouncing in their wake. Of the tools there was no sign, not even the slightest bulge.

Having put away her toys, just like her mom had always told her to, "**Mom, what a bitch**," she rolled her eyes; Ditzy snatched up her jeweler's lense and lipstick. Oh, wait; she was an orphan, "**Heh**."

Holy Troll was now making these high-pitched, dry wheezing noises that were like really getting annoying. Ditzy twisted the jeweler's lense to zoom it out, shoved it into her eye and sat up, spinning around as she uncapped her lipstick with an audible pop. "**You know, that's like really getting annoying… Oh. _Choooking_. I get it**."

Ditzy quickly applied some lipstick, recapped the tube and dropped it into her Cleave of Wonders. She closed her eye so she could stare at the floundering troll in zoomy-vision. "**Cooool**." Larizu still knelt on the ground, hands at his own throat as if he were throttling himself. He drew in his right leg, stood on it, brought in the left one, tried to scream in pain, the veins and tendons in his face and neck standing out. Though Ditzy couldn't see this, she caught an eyeful of rippling back muscles and her brows raised as the crest of fur on the troll's spine rose, "**Woah daddy! Hang on, Holyman!**"

Ditzy stood at the edge of the field, all bright piss _-er-_ 'Sunshine' yellow pigtails and neon purple and pink garb. Her one eye was obscured by a lense that looked like a tiny black telescope. The other was wide with excitement. Her tights were miraculously tight and unwrinkled and she held her arms wide, her hands balled into fists. Legs apart in a "bring it, world!" stance, she looked like a hero. Ditzy was a hero. "**I'm a motherfucking hero!**" Ditzy charged. "**AAAAAAAAAAAAA…!**"

Larizu heard the cry and actually tried to flee, though his vision had gone from dim with blue spots to blue with black spots and he couldn't feel his limbs or much of anything beside the burn in his chest. He didn't make it far. The goblin could move. She could really, really fucking move. In the amount of time it took Larizu to think, "Oh dat's it, Loa. I be…" Ditzy had already crossed three dozen yards and launched herself through the air, pink-shod feet forward like a screaming green missile, purple ruffle of a skirt flapping up to her neck.

"**AAAAAA…!**"

The troll had fallen to both knees again and he slapped both hands over his face as he braced himself for whatever hellish death awaited him. Couldn't the gods just have let him finish choking to death in peace?

"**…AAAAH!**"

…That was _it_?

"**DIE!**"

Larizu was struck, no, reamed, no, god-fucked in the back, on either side of his spine. He was propelled forward with such force that he managed to catch the dirt and mucus plug that had been punched out of him directly in his face before he ate ground for what seemed the thousandth time that day.

He laid there, his breath coming in wheezing sobs. Breathing hurt like fuck, but it was good. It was life. So he was missing a leg. He could use that to his advantage. Stir up some mercy-business. Tips, even. Turn misery into gold. No way was anyone gonna know he got his foot bit off by a goblin. He'd have to come up with something. He'd iron out the details later. For now, he was just certain he didn't feel ready to die.

_Tank ya, Loa, for dis second chance at life. I'll try and do my best as a one-legged, one-nut, one-glass-eye healer and I promise ta never stray from da path again. I learned my lesson. Please make da goblin go away. Praise all ya names._

Ditzy kept her legs rigid until the moment of impact, flinging her arms forward and down as she let herself bend forward at the waist, her knees loose. She flipped over once, twice, her head rolling on the ground before her round ass landed with a thud. She quickly shoved herself to her feet and flung her arms out, tossing her pigtails as she glanced over her shoulder to see if Larizu had seen the failed landing. He hadn't. The lazy rude was still lying on his face. Bolts, trolls were so stinking lazy. They had good hookah though.

"**Tadaaaaa!**" Ditzy spun around and stomped into position, legs apart, arms still spread in the air. "**TA-_DAAAAAAAAAAH!_**" After a moment, she let her hands drop to her hips, one foot tapping impatiently. Her exposed eye narrowed.

The troll slowly bent his arms and pushed up off the ground, again on his knees as his shaking arms held his weight and he gasped, his lungs still aching. "**EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!**" Larizu's ears twitched as he cringed his head toward his right shoulder to avoid the piercing shriek. "**Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Grohoss! Gross! Ew!**"

Swallowing, he swung his head toward the goblin, clearing his dry throat as he let out a hoarse bark. He cleared his throat again. "Shut up," he managed to croak.

Ditzy was dancing from ugly pink shoe to ugly pink shoe, pointing at him as she screamed, one wide eye rolling wildly. The other eye had something black jammed into it. "**Shit eater! Shit eater!**" She continued to babble as she bounced from foot to foot, jabbing each finger at him in turn, her face a bizarre mixture of insane disgust and insane terrified laughter.

"**EweweweweweweweEEEEW!**"

Larizu shook his head slightly, reaching up and wiping at his face with the back of his left hand, the arm he was still balanced on trembling with the added effort. The lack of oxygen had really taken its toll on his muscles and he had to slap his hand back on the ground quickly before he fell over. Glancing down at the back of his hand, Larizu lifted his angry gaze to the frantically cavorting goblin. "It ain't shit. It's dirt, ya moron."

She was chittering like a rabid green monkey, head shaking from side to side as she gestured and gibbered, "**Shit eye!**" She leveled an accusatory finger at him. "**It's on your eye! Oh nasty! You're so gah-ross! Ew!**"

Larizu rolled his eyes… Larizu rolled his EYE as he reached up again and wiped at the surface of the false one. Sure enough, his finger came away bearing a big, mucousy blob of dirt. He flicked it away with a look of disgust and settled down on his elbows with a pained grunt. His leg was killing him. Maybe the monkey did give him rabies. Or the fire piss. Larizu wondered what the fire piss did to a leg. Well, it burned for starters, apparently. He glared at her lipstick-smeared mouth and his stomach did a somersault.

"**EEEEEEEW! YOUR EEEEYE!**"

Larizu snarled, "Could ya just shut up a second?"

Far from putting an end to her caterwauling, his question only seemed to further incite the crazed goblin. "**You wiped off the red! GROSS! GROSS! You choked on SHIT and wiped off the RED!**"

Larizu stared at her, his face slack and unreadable in his confusion. Larizu blinked. Ditzy screamed. Larizu swallowed. Ditzy danced. She didn't stop screaming, but he had stopped listening. It was all "eye" this and "shit eater" that.

Larizu reached up with one finger, pressed it to his left eyeball, and rolled it into place. Ditzy didn't abruptly stop dancing, rather she wound down slowly, the fingers she had been helpfully indicating the decrepit eye with curling slowly back into her fists. Her pigtails stopped bouncing and settled with jutting out of her skull like retarded handles. Her feet were the last to stop, slowing to a march and then just rocking as the knees bent in place.

Ditzy watched, mesmerized, as the troll adjusted his all-white eyeball so that the red and black showed. He stared back at her the entire time. Her own eyes widened and the jeweler's lense dropped, her hand darting out of its own accord and catching it deftly as she looked on. She sniffed; wiped at her nose, fell silent as her hand fell back to her side.

Larizu blinked several times and the eye became perfectly centered, indistinguishable from its brethren. The troll and the goblin stared at one another in silence. Ditzy bent to yank up her tights. Larizu spoke softly, his face tired and pale, his tone bitter, "I like ya better dis way."

Ditzy looked up as she struggled with her tights, "**with my tights down?**"

Larizu shook his head once. "Wit yer mouth shut."

* * *

Not to sound too QQ gushy, but Five Shades has really been my muse lately. Go drool over her art.

Should be more shortly. I could write all freaking day but my back is wrecked, so if I don't get any more out today, blame advil.


	5. Apology: Good Enough

_Forget all dat shit I said about spiteful. Wait, dat come out all wrong. I be spiteful, yeah…_

_Shit. You'll forgive me, Loa, but my grovelin' abilities seem to be all tapped out. Still, I try. Larizu deserves some credit for dat, right?_

_Fuck it, all of ya might be spiteful and I don't judge ya. Be spiteful as fuck. Just hear my prayer here, because I be beggin' ya. And it ain't da kind of beggin' where Larizu be drunk and horny and some bitch bein' uptight about da wrong end. Dis be some life or deat', be losin' my mind or keepin' my sanity shit. So for da love of You… Hear me? Pretty please?_

_Now I about ta ask ya for a lot. But I do as ya ask in return. Just send me a little sign. Larizu be watchin' for ya message. Sometin' small. Like maybe ya carve a note in her fuckin' skull._

_I got tree wishes right now. One. Please just grant me a little bit of dat real healin' shit so I can make dis leg walkable because I ain't got no fuckin' supplies out here and dis nasty green bitch gonna break out some kind of healin' bomb. I just know she gonna do it, Loa. And Larizu is scared._

_Two, if ya could somehow make her shut da fuck up wit da "eye" and da "nut" questions, dat be nice. I mean, real fuckin' nice._

_Tree. Kill her. Please just fuckin' kill her ass. I don't care if she explode and her fuckin' guts get all over me. You can have Larizu's other fuckin' nut. _

_Woah WHOAH WAIT! Under duress, mon. Under duress… Leave dat nut be. Just… Fuck it. Just one and two be fine. Praise all ya names and shit. Tanks._

"… **like jammed in the other like one of them Tauren nesting dolls that…"**

Larizu sat on the blood soaked grass in the deceptively springtime-lovely clearing that had become his own personal battlefield. At the field's center were panties. Tons of panties. Blood elf panties. They had smelled like victory; his spoils from a battle he had thought won. He had pillaged those panties, though in his bloodl- … er, his fucklust, he had somehow forgotten the entire battle.

But the tables had turned when his one-man army of troll had been so wrapped up in the sweet panty-smell of victory that he'd failed to sense the evil green goblin threat's advance before it was already upon him… With teeth!

And now it was over. The battle had ended, and Larizu sat, defeated, and tried to tend to his injured. The injured being the mangled rear section of his left leg, from just above the dewclaw to halfway up the calf.

"… **puke my guts out when you ate your own …"**

The troll wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist and shook it off absently as he stared at the grievous bites. Larizu was a healer. He had seen a lot of shit. He'd seen stuff worse than this by far, but that shit wasn't on his person and so paled by comparison.

"… **see into the back of your head…"**

Larizu leaned his head back and rolled his eyes skyward and then further until the whites showed, but he wasn't trying to see into the back of his head and his good eye couldn't. Neither, of course, could the glass one. He kept his eyes shut as he leaned forward again to inspect his fucked up leg as he prayed silently to the deaf ears of his Loa for the power to heal the shredded mess. He was certain that if he caught even a glimpse of the goblin, he would spring to his feet, wounded calf or not, and break his damn leg in half kicking the shit out of her.

"… **-asted kinda like chicken with some kinda…"**

Why should Gods and Loa, in all their glorious power, listen to the voice of one who whimpered and whined like a little bitch? Larizu couldn't blame them. He refrained from his praying and begging. It wasn't easy. He was flinging exceedingly violent images at every deity whose name he could recall, and some he had conjured up for the occasion, of a very dead or dying goblin female. One with piss-yellow pigtails. NOT sunshine. Piss.

"… **tiny tusks are actually kinda…"**

Larizu winced and ran his tongue along the base of one tusk. They weren't tiny; he just had really full lips. He shook his head and tuned out the maelstrom of agonizingly shrill discord…

"… **total riot! I mean a priest that…"**

… which sought to tear his concentration…

"… **screamin' like a girl off …"**

... and indeed his sanity…

"… **monetary compensation…"**

(Bitch better be fuckin' kiddin'!)

"… **saved your life 'cause a hero's work…"**

… to shreds.

"… **probably like whip up a healin' bomb or somethin' if I…"**

Well, mon, if ya needed a signal, dat be it. Now heal dis shit or get healin' bombed to a hell dat's likely all yellow-hair goblin bitches wit mouts dat don't shut da fuck up.

"… **can fit the whole thing up my…"**

"_Shh!"_

"**RUDE!" **Ditzy squawked angrily, crossing her skinny arms and plopping down on her generously padded behind. Her too-short skirt had somehow gotten tucked into the back of her tights.

"Shut _up_." Larizu growled, keeping his gaze trained on the nasty bites. If he couldn't heal this thing, he might just gnaw it the rest of the way off and beat her ass to death with it. Larizu shook his head. _Concentrate, ya dumb bastard._

"**What're ya bein' such a BRAT about? And you could THANK me, ya know!"**

_Thank…?_

That broke his concentration. Larizu raised his hairless brow and sighed deeply, drew his lips into a thin and none-too-friendly smile as he raised his eyes to meet hers, blinking rapidly. "What was dat?" he asked, in a very strained tone.

"**Oh bolts, ya gotta be kiddin' me. We're doin' the whole no speaky orcy thing again? **_**Fiiiine!**_** Ditzy… Save… LIFE! Larizu… THANK… Ditzy! Boltz-bananas! Sheesh!" **she rolled her eyes.

"Ya tried ta kill me." Larizu was too puzzled, too worn to even make an attempt to dissect her fucked up logic. He stated the fact blatantly. He didn't want her to respond. He wanted her to shut up. But there was no way he was giving in and thanking her. Hell no. If he thanked her, she'd be doing backflips, likely kicking him in the face in the process.

"**Umm… hello? You were like choking on your own shit? How was that attempted murder?"**

"It wasn't sh- … Den why'd ya scream 'Die'?"

Ditzy shook her head and gaped at him like he was the most impossibly feeble-minded moron she'd ever bit on the leg before, **"Well what do **_**you **_**scream when you're****kickin' someone in the back? 'Welcome to the jungle'? Uh-duuuuh."**

_I bet I could jam my tiny tusk in her eye socket and still have some left ta scramble up dat nasty little brain of hers. Maybe fuck up her speech centers, mon._

Larizu then got a mental image of his face pressed up to her eye socket far enough to reveal those last VALID inches of tusk and his gorge began to rise. "Tankya fer tryin' ta kill me. Now shut up so I can concentrate."

**"You're welcome,"** Ditzy huffed. **"Now ya can apologize."**

"YA BIT ME! WHAT DA HELL YA WANT ME TA 'POLAGIZE FOR?" Larizu roared with such vehemence that Ditzy's sneer faltered.

She then resorted to pouting. Larizu rolled his eyes as the goblin shrugged her shoulders, turned her head to the side and muttered, **"For callin' me fat."** Even her mutter was too damned loud.

Larizu squinted, tilting his head. "What?" His teeth showed and his forehead wrinkled as he tried to figure out what this bitch was trying to pull. "I didn't call ya fat."

Ditsy blew her cheeks out and gave him a sideways look. She looked away and then looked at him again, tossing her pigtails. She batted her lashes with such force that one of them finally surrendered and broke loose, falling under the weight of many layers of mascara.

Larizu thought those lashes looked like teeth. Everything would probably look like teeth to him from now on. He shook himself to will away the disturbing notion of crusty mascara goblin-eye jaws and demanded, "Well?"

Ditzy sniffed, uncrossed her arms and flicked an imaginary speck off of the front of her purple skirt. She did nothing, however to untuck the back of it from her tights. She lifted and dropped the heels of her ugly shoes, which were still splayed out in front of her and facing apart. **"Well,"** she sighed, **"We both know you were thinking it."**

Ditzy looked at Larizu. Larizu glared back. The glass eye was a very good facsimile, but it was apparent which was the real eye, as the pupil was rapidly shrinking to a very very tiny dot and the iris appeared to be deepening in its crimson shade. It was Ditzy's turn to look uncertain.

"**Sorry I bitcha!"** she blurted.

Larizu followed her gaze down and realized he had been squeezing his leg, just above the wound with such force that he left impressive fingerprints as he released his grip. Well, that stopped the bleeding. He looked up.

"**Well?"**

"… Well what?"

"**Do ya think I'm fat?"**

Larizu blinked and felt the glass eye roll. Great, now it was all unstuck. Fuck. He answered blandly, "I tink ya got a skinny neck."

Ditzy grinned and hugged herself, swinging her shoulders side to side as she lifted her big -what the hell was holding them up?- green breasts and then dropped them bouncingly, **"Works for me!"**

"Trilled. Now shut da fuck up so I can concentrate. I gotta heal dis ting."

"…"

Larizu shot a hand up, palm-out, without taking his eye off the tattered flesh and exposed muscle. _Oh Loa was that bone? _"Jjjt! Save it." She promptly bit back the comment he had easily foreseen. He couldn't help but cringe at the sound of her wicked teeth clicking together. He could have been spared that little detail, but at least she wasn't babbling.

Ditzy leaned forward, grabbing the tongues of her high heeled sneaker boots as she watched eagerly. Larizu was holding his hands out over the wound. She was pretty impressed with her work. He deserved a little credit too, what with all the shaking and screaming he'd done. She'd held on longer just to hear him scream. It was very important that he concentrate, if he were going to do something that wasn't totally boring. Being the super awesome hero that she was, she managed not to make a single sound as she smirked at the memory of his shrill cries and hysterical bellowing. Her face hurt from contorting, though. A hero's work was never painless.

Loa weren't listening, but that was fine for now. He had other sources of power to fall back on. Light was a little pissed at him, too, but that was a given when one was filled with murderous thoughts as he was now. Larizu swallowed, concentrated. Connections were very important, for one such as Larizu. That is, loose but tentatively friendly acquaintances were good in large numbers when one was notorious for pissing off everyone that he dealt with. Call in a favor here and there; borrow from one to pay off the other, and before you knew it, everyone was happy again… for a while.

He called to the essence of the earth around him. _Concentrate._ The soil gave life to the plants, the grass and the trees. The trees fell and rotted; fed the little mushrooms that grew there and then they returned to the earth and became new soil. The soil mixed with the rain that fell from the sky, driven by winds that carried the seeds of new life. Flowers bloomed in empty and scarred places, spread by wind and rain; fed by rain and earth and the sun that warmed his naked back…

Ditzy watched Mister Holyman and wondered if he would throw a total bitchfit if he failed. Well, duh. She wondered if he'd cry. So there was a good fifty-fifty she could blow him a new leg with a healing bomb if he couldn't patch it up with some of his troll Doo-Doo. And another fifty-fifty she could whip up a badass hydraulic mechanoleg with any spare parts if the healing bomb turned out to be a regular bomb. So that was a full hundred in his favor right there.

Still, if he somehow managed to pull this off, it would be pretty rad to see his leg like grow back together or whatever. Maybe it would like explode back together. Cooool! Also, he was like moving his lips and making really retarded faces and she needed a breather from all that exercise she'd been getting, so at least it was something to look at. A hero's work was never… It didn't burn enough ass-fat off for how much bullshit you went through. Bolts.

… _Me toughts, me heart be pure. Life, grant me power. Azerot, mend Larizu dat Larizu may mend dems dat be needin' it… _

Subtle changes in the wind, the earth beneath him and the grass that tickled and itched where it touched his skin. Perhaps the breeze moved the goblin's hair as it did his. He didn't notice or care. His shadow seemed to deepen as he stared at the leg, let his hands hover over it.

_Azerot, life, aid Larizu._ The troll blinked slowly, his expression grave as he stared at the wounded leg and the trembling hands that were spread, hovering above it. There. There; a barely perceptible nudge, something pressed into his left palm. So vague, distant, that it may be his desperate imaginings. Softer than wind. Softer than still air.

_Aid me. _He was a child of Azeroth, the dream that kept it, the love and life guarded by the misunderstood and all-but-forgotten Aspects. While Larizu and billions who simply called her home would never understand, couldn't comprehend; Azeroth knew each and every one of her children, parts of her.

There; in his right hand, a condensation of sorts. Slight, so slight. Though there was nothing to see, he could almost imagine, were he to flip his hand over and peek, there would be a slight glow in the palm. Larizu was silent. Ditzy and everything around him had ceased to be. His injury; his reason for asking, had ceased to be. His eye wandered slowly back and forth between his hands as he waited. _Please._

Another minute passed; two; three; ten.

_**Man I gotta pee. Maybe he's havin' like a seizure. Ten more minutes and I am so gonna pants, er… dress him. Heh. Yeah. I'm gonna show his butt to the world! Screw, I hate gnomes. It's like they think they're tha only short guys who know a bolt from a stinkin' nut. Hah! Nut! Balls. Heh. Wait, did I say that out loud? Nope, he's still sittin' there. Boooring…**_

_**I gotta make a squirrel catcher. Maybe like a bomb with like squirrel bait? What the screw do squirrels eat? Oh yeah, nuts! Hahaha! Balls. And maybe like a shrapnel grenade with like posters stuck all over the nails. BINGO! Wait… wasn't that like the name of that dwarf's stinkin' farm mutt? Yeah, haha. What a freakin' mess that was. Who knew dogs liked meat bombs? Ooh, wait. Wasn't there a shrapnel bomb kit on sale in Bombs and Boners Monthly? Shit, I gotta see if I can find a back issue. Stupid fire.**_

_**Ponies. Every girl's dream. Well, after Coffee-Getter. Bitches better back off! Crap, I bet they only got back issues a Bombs and Tits. They always print more of them. Rude! Well, at least I get my 'Boners free, heh. Tits pay the bills! Well, pics of tits pay the magazine subscriptions, as least. **_

_**Crap on plywood, is he just gonna sit there?**_

_**Saaaay. I bet he'd **_**totally**_** read Bombs and Tits! I mean, every other page is like tits! I mean, he's a used panty freak! Obviously a weirdo. Shit, he might even like the "brother" publication. Course, he ain't cover material. Meh… Well, he did say he was a grower...**_

"**Hey ya wanna get some free mags sellin' photos of yer d-?" **Ditzy clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Her pencil-filled, high arched brows rose to meet her side-swept bangs, stretching her blue eye shadow along with it. She had jumped to her feet. Her tights were around her knees. Her purple skirt was tucked in the back of her red panties.

Larizu stared up at her, pure hate in his eyes. Even the glass one seethed, though it had rolled inward and was seething at the bridge of his nose. One side of his mouth was smiling and the other was frowning but, man, he sure wasn't smiling. His lower eyelids rose at their centers in rainbow shapes. Nothing about the troll was sunny.

"I be…"

Ditzy had glanced up at Larizu's pissed-off face. What a brat. But her gaze had quickly dropped to his leg and the hands that hovered there. The air around them was doing… something. They were totally gonna explode. Ditzy took a step back. This was gonna be so rad!

"… so fuckin'…"

**Hacksaw my balls, he's like actually doin' somethin'! Bolts that is COOL! **The air around Larizu's hands were gathering… something. It was like a storm were collecting, but it wasn't really clouds, there. Ditzy wasn't a describer… she was a doer. A hero. This was gonna be so fuckin' rad! She continued to take tiny, slow steps backward, her untied laces dragging on the ground as her tights stretched and wrinkled between her knees.

"… SICK of all ya sh- AAAAAHAHAAAH!"

"**YEAAAAH! YEAH FUCK YEAH!"**

Both troll and goblin shook the meadow and surrounding forest with their screams, the former in agony, and the latter in ecstatic jubilance. As Larizu's hands channeled waves of healing magic, granted him by Azeroth, and his leg completed weeks of healing in mere minutes; he roared at the sky. His sounds were wordless cries of hysterical pain. Ditzy's cries were slightly more articulate. By about a hair.

"**YEAH! YEAH! FUCK YEAH!"** She leapt about, grabbing her tights with one hand and pulling them up as she ran in place, her other hand yanking her pigtail hard enough to stretch her eyelid**. "KICK IT'S FUCKING ASS LARIZU! HEAL THAT MOTHERFUCKER!"**

Her shoe kicked off, spun upward and bounced off her own forehead. Ditzy's frantic screeching and gesturing didn't pause even as the laces slapped her in the ears. **"BLOW IT THE FUCK APART! MAKE ITCHER FUCKIN BITCH!"**

Larizu didn't hear her over his own howls as his hands continued to drain any potential infection and foreign debris and bacteria, it floating up and collecting against his left palm in a tiny marble. His right hand sent a constant flow of bright, white energy that appeared both to be solid and made of light. The leg pulsed as it first spread and then strands of new muscle snaked across to replace the old. The muscle tightened and the deep wounds began to cinch themselves shut. Scar tissue formed, shed, lifted off to join the debris in his left hand. New, thinner scar tissue formed. He screamed lungs out, his head thrown back. Larizu didn't have a high pain threshold.

"**Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck! That. Is. Soooo. Cooowuuuuull!"** Ditzy had finished stretching her face by her pigtails and yanking her tights up to her tits and had stepped back into her ugly shoe as she flung herself to the ground. She now clung to Larizu's toes, her hands squeezing them and pulling them apart in a victorious "V" as she stared at the miraculous, though non-exploding leg. She had stopped screaming and been reduced to excited cackling. **"Holy shit! Did you see that? Hahahahaha! Bolts that was fuckin' wild! Ahahahahaha!"**

South of the grand city of Silvermoon, home of the haughty blood elves and their sexy panties, in the middle of the scarred but ever-lovely Eversong Woods, there was a lovely meadow. A rainbow of flowers dappled the dreamlike perfection of the clearing, where butterflies and hummingbirds danced in the clean, quiet air. A perpetual springtime wood surrounded a perpetually heavenly and untouched pasture.

Here, amidst the sweet smell of wildflowers and beneath the gentle, warming touch of the sun; there sat a seemingly unlikely pair. The red-crested troll sat on his haunches, head thrown back as he gaped blindly at the sky, panting. The vociferous goblin kicked her legs as she clung to his foot with both hands and giggled excitedly.

Life went on. Wars were fought. Peace was pursued. Birth, life, and death continued. Trees fell, rotted, and became the soil that helped birth new trees. Lands were razed and born anew. Old Gods dreamt of chaos and new deities sought to guide and strengthen and purify those they deemed fit for future battles. The sands of time swirled. The Dream continued to pulse. Azeroth continued to spin.

~I'wilo


End file.
